


Verdant Heart

by Cordoniantrash



Category: The Royal Romance (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Liam/Main Character (mentioned), Savannah -centric, Stream of Consciousness, from tumblr, not beta'd so beware, on the nose imagery, recollections, some purple patches (I'm so sorry), the jealous!Savannah fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-07 21:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20459459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cordoniantrash/pseuds/Cordoniantrash
Summary: It was there and then that she became acquainted with yearning, and in the years that followed, it became her constant shadow. Her friend.Savannah, her life, loves and thoughts.Pre-book to The Royal Heir





	Verdant Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo… here’s the jealous!Savannah fic that I’ve tried my hand at. It was originally supposed to be just three parts where it shows instances of Savannah’s jealous moments over the years but I ended up with five parts that’s mostly written stream of consciousness style. Oops. 
> 
> Apologies for the purple patches in this. Also tried to put some symbolism here and there (which in hindsight is quite on the nose).
> 
> Title is from a quote by Russell Page, taken a bit out of context to fit the fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, Pixleberry has that privilege

I

Her clearest early memory was this: there was a ball, and the entire Walker family was invited. Savannah saw it as her first true ball. It wasn’t like the others where she and the other children (and the princes) were allowed in the ballroom for a little while and then ushered into a sitting room while the adults stayed in the grand ballroom and enjoyed the party. Savannah was actually dressed in a gown, a pretty little thing, forest green with skirts that swished when she twirled. She remembered that their parents allowed them to stay past their bedtimes ( “Just this once,” her father said), and little Savannah was determined to make the most of it. 

When the opportunity presented itself, she wandered off from the adults and found some of her friends, children of the staff in the palace, while her brother took off to go hang out with Prince Liam. On the other side of the room, near the thrones, she could see some noble’s children in their own little circles, fashionably dressed, almost doll-like in their perfection. 

The purpose of the event was lost to little Savannah. Looking back she remembered admiring the way the light danced on the floor of the grand ballroom, the tinkling of both glass and laughter, the way the skirt of the ladies’ gowns would sway and shimmer as they moved and glided across the floor. In a child’s mind, it was as though all her favorite fairy-tales have come to life and gathered at her home. 

As she gazed across the room, she saw the queen being surrounded by noblewomen, all fawning over her dress, her hair, her emerald jewels. She saw how the king would now and then look over and gaze at his wife with something that Savannah decided was love. 

It was there and then that she became acquainted with yearning, and in the years that followed, it became her constant shadow. Her friend. 

II

She tried to fit in, become a tree amongst the forest. She would be beautiful as myrtle, beloved as apple, graceful as jasmine flowers. Savannah dreamed of being loved and adored like every noble lady in the court. She tried to talk like them, act like them, be like them. So she would go on and pour herself into mint green dresses, drape jade across her throat and wrists, weave laurel colored ribbons in her hair. All the while telling herself that this will let her become like them. She clung to the idea of nobility like ivy, while her brother had begun to try to free himself from its clutches.

Yet it wasn’t enough. Her clothes were just a season too late, her manners lacking, her posture forever slipping. Her jewels did not shine, her dress dull, her charm lacking. Faced with all these, Savannah still tried and pushed, happy to be granted even a scrap of thought.

In her quest to be accepted, she had begun to develop a crush on the second prince (or was it the other way ‘round? She couldn’t quite recall). How could she not have a crush on him? Prince Liam was handsome and smart. He embodied sophistication for Savannah, and he always knew the right thing to say. A smile from him would have her feeling butterflies in her stomach.

Her brother knew of her little crush, of course. Savannah pleaded and cajoled her brother, promising him weeks-worth of chores and her best puppy-dog eyes for him to never mention it to Prince Liam. This did not stop him from teasing her every time they see the Princes. He would smirk, nudge her and loudly whisper:

“Look who it is Sav!”

“D’you wanna say hi?”

“Look, Sav! He might be looking your way!”

The embarrassment was excruciating. That did not curb her crush. 

It was him or nothing, really. He was the closest to her age (Maxwell does not count because he’s become something like a brother). Yes, she would giggle and swoon over the Crown Prince like the other palace girls (again, how could they not? Prince Leo was temptation incarnate) but she would always take fierce pride in the fact that while her friends gossip and play coy with the older brother, she was secure in the younger. In her daydreams, Prince Liam would woo her, would never embarrass her like Drake. He would be like the Princes in the fairy tales she loved. 

Savannah had it all planned out. She would always be with them in their escapades (well, along with Lady Olivia) and one day the Prince would notice and then, like the princess and the damsels in her stories, she too would have her happily ever after. She’d be accepted then. She would be enough.

Her plans were delayed when Savannah went with her family to their ranch in Texas for the second time. There she met Chuck and her plans and daydreams were put on indefinite hold.

She came back from that summer refreshed and feeling like a new person. She had bloomed into a woman that summer (or so she told herself), and when she went back to Cordonia, she felt ready to face the world. She’s not Drake’s younger sister anymore. She won’t be. She’ll be known as Savannah Walker and she’ll make her mark upon the world.

This newfound perspective, her new world, was shattered by a late-night phone call and a bullet wound. 

III

This is how she started seeing – _truly seeing_ – him. It was her father’s funeral, and she was standing beside her brother, both of them staring at the casket. The Princes and the Brothers Beaumont stood beside the Walkers, (who were now thrust into the spotlight) as a show of solidarity. For once in Savannah’s life, she could find pleasure in being the center of attention. She wanted to disappear, to sink into the earth and let it swallow her so she may be with her father again. She’ll gladly disappear if it meant that her Dad would return to them.

She sniffled, her head bent, silently cursing herself for appearing less than strong in front of her father. In front of her family, in front of the court. At the corner of her eye, she could see the boys. For once they were standing behind Drake, all of them appearing blurry through her tears. Someone cleared their throat behind her. She turned her head and saw a handkerchief, black and perfectly folded. She raised her head and met the eyes of one Bertrand Beaumont. 

In the months and years that followed, Savannah learned that Bertrand was nothing like the Prince. Both of them were charming. Both of them, the epitome of courtly life, but while Prince Liam was born into it, at ease with all the protocols and the tradition, Bertrand upheld it with every fiber of his being. He lived it and pushed it into new heights. He radiated glamour and Savannah was more than happy to soak in it and bask in its glow, however, reflected it may be.

He was real and somehow all that she ever needed. Throughout their whole story, she began to feel accepted. _Funny_, she had thought, _how one person could make her feel what dozen of noble ladies could not._

Savannah then came into a realization. Prince Liam was blue; he was deep seas and untouchable skies. He would always unknowingly have her childhood’s heart, but now he was hazy. Dreamlike. Like the memories she’ll always hold dear. Bertrand, in his brown suits, his patterned sweater vests, and dry wit was the opposite. He was steady, dependable. _Real. _An actual shelter, a true home, and like a fool she had given him her all.

Bertrand had opened the door into the life that she had yearned for. Bertrand was also the one to close it. The closest thing she had ever come to hating the nobility was after Bertrand told her they can never be together. That he still has to marry a _noblewoman_. After all this time she wasn’t enough. The baby wasn’t enough. _They _weren’t enough.

What’s worse is that in the eyes of the court she’ll be ruined. She’ll be like any other scandal. _They don’t have to know_, a voice whispered in her head as she agonized over what to do, dear, sweet Maxwell found her crying on the steps of the Beaumont estate and offered to help. She had accepted it, what else can she do?

She took some lessons from Kiara, noticing the way the Lady looked at her brother and shamefully taking advantage of it. She packed her bags before anyone could talk her out of it and moved to Paris. There she stayed and gave birth; cushioned by Maxwell’s kindness (_and pity_, she added in her head) until her brother found her _appartement_ with an American in tow. 

IV

Her old friend, yearning came back, this time with company. Lady Cassandra was beautiful. What’s more was that she was magnetic, even when dressed casually. Savannah had seen her pictures from the tabloids and heard Maxwell’s stories, but nothing prepared her for the force of nature that was Cassandra.

“She’s really something else,” Maxwell had said. Savannah had chuckled and changed the subject.

Now that they’re face to face, Savannah can see it. She also saw how her brother would orbit around the woman. She had already endured Maxwell’s gushing about his new bosom buddy, his new sister, and knew with a heavy heart that Cassandra was head over heels with Liam. Savannah wonders how her brother can cope with that weighing him down while also quelling the envy that reared its ugly head. She refused to look into it for too long.

But despite her efforts, she still felt jealous. She wanted to scream. They were _hers_ first. Her family, her brothers, her childhood prince. After she meets Cassandra, she began to compare herself to the American. She’d look in a mirror and let yearning and envy consume her thoughts.

With Lady Cassandra came other surprises. Bertrand came into her life again and began to build them back together once more. Brick by brick, lovingly (and awkwardly) place one after the other.

Savannah could have stayed in Paris, raised Bartie in the City of Love, and let Cordonia go. But the call of home, of Drake and Maxwell, _of family_ (_of Bertrand_, her mind supplied) grew stronger every day. _Maybe_ she had thought, _maybe it’s time to grow roots. _

She came back, and the court was somehow changed yet still the same and Savannah occupied her old role: an <strike>outsider</strike> observer looking outside in. Once in awhile, she’d look again at a mirror and think. She used to dream of fitting in, of being the princess, being Snow White: Fairest of them all. Of having and commanding the adoration of people around her and lavish parties thrown in her honor. What she got instead was isolation in an apartment in Paris, a baby (the light of her life) out of wedlock and a relationship that was barely staying afloat while a complete stranger got the chance to achieve all her dreams and fancies.

It was not as if Cassandra was cruel to her. Or indifferent. She was always looking out for them, helping Bertrand communicate with her. Savannah was grateful, immensely so, but she can’t help but listen to a tiny voice in her head saying that the American turned Duchess was doing it mainly for Bertrand.

So despite her best efforts, she would still cast subtle glances, admiring and jealous at equal measure. Comparing and aspiring, a never-ending cycle. She thought she’d be free of that once she came back. She was wrong.

Savannah tried not to let jealousy get the best of her during Cassandra’s wedding. The event hasn’t even started yet the masses are already calling it the wedding of the century. Then Bertrand and the bridal party were attacked and Savannah is too worried to dwell on the wedding itself, that is until she saw the future queen of Cordonia being given away by Bertrand. Pride and something ugly she’d rather not dwell on swelled in her chest. _Of course, the modern-day Cinderella would have her fairy tale wedding while Savannah – ordinary, commoner Savannah – can’t even have a straight conversation with the father of her child and the love of her life. _

This cocktail of emotions stayed with her until the wonder of all wonders happened: Bertrand stepped up and gave Savannah her most desired fairy-tale proposal. With the new queen’s help of course (but Savannah was too ecstatic to dwell on that).

Savannah felt bad about it afterward, especially in the wake of the kidnapping, but after the dust settled those emotions came back, embraced and nurtured by her old friends: yearning and envy. 

V

Now in her family’s ranch, with a mother who was trying her best and an aunt with understanding in her eyes, Savannah’s old friends dog her steps once again, but never for the same reasons: she yearns to have what Liam and Cassandra have, that ease that they exclude around each other, so different from the look that Constantine gave Eleanor all those years ago, but no less intense. No less loving.

She wonders if Bertrand would ever be as upfront about his affections like the royal couple are with theirs.

She envies that they seem to have everything they’ll ever need while her love struggles with their finances.

So Savannah can’t help but cast her little side-eyes, speak her little quips. Shape her wedding to the image of her parents instead of the courtly one that she had been dreaming of.

Savannah admires and envies Cassandra at the same time. Here was the woman who had achieved all of Savannah’s dreams and then some. And while Savannah would not trade Bertrand and Bartie for anything, a vicious little voice in her head would always find herself lacking and Savannah is growing tired of it. 

She longs to put down roots, to be steady as oak, long-lasting as a redwood. A shelter. A part of the forest.

Savannah chases contentment with yearning and envy at her side, wondering all the while why it eludes her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to the anon who sent that really sweet message! Grammatical mistakes are mine and do let me know what you guys think.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as cordoniantrash


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